


Wolves and Demons

by Merfilly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Fairy Tale Elements, Other, Post-Order 66, rexsoka is not the focus, sort of, this is mostly Wolffe's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7971712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The legends spoke of haunting songs after such battles, in human words and wolf howls. To hear such was the only warning for the Empire. Either they would need to run, or they would die, and the songs would be repeated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolves and Demons

He curled around the cub more tightly as she whimpered and cried, trapped in the death-throes of her entire people, the ones that had raised and shaped her prior to casting her aside. He had not wanted to go from his own brothers, but the Father had asked him to find the cub.

On an instinctive level, he knew the Father was dead. He needed to howl his pain for that, but first, he had to care for the cub. She was his responsibility now, as the Father would wish.

When she buried her face in his ruff to cry fully, he raised his mouth and let the howl of Remembrance escape. She heard, and… somehow, she understood, and began singing it in two-leg words, her voice cracking on some of the names. In deference to him, she said her names, and then finished with the Father, before collapsing into his warm fur to sleep off the spasms caused by so many deaths striking her.

* * *

He had not changed back since the night of the Dying. The Father would probably be upset with him, but this world was cold, and the cub had no fur. Each night they curled up to sleep, and each day they moved, ever closer to the place with star-fliers. As they moved, they hunted… and he knew pride to see her spring and catch her own prey. The cub was strong, even if she lived in pain like he did.

He had just settled, the winds bringing the smell of the star-fliers to him, and he knew tomorrow would be the end of this part of the journey. But then the wind shifted, and he smelled danger, hunters in the same armor he knew for his man-form. A low growl escaped him, thinking to warn the cub, but she was moving already, hands going to her weapons. She really was a strong cub, and much as he mourned the Father, he would stay with her.

//Up.//

The words-in-head were hard, but the Father had taught him how. The cub understood, and her slight body was settled just behind his shoulders in moments, her weapons waiting to be lit, while he felt the lightest pressure of the invisible-touch that held her to him. He rushed silently, and she did not ignite her weapon until they were in the midst of the hunters.

A part of his brain wanted to balk, because these were the non-changing brothers.

Brothers were not supposed to hurt the cub, and they were all trying to kill her. Their smell was wrong. 

Soon, the wolf and cub were done with battle, and no brother stood. The cub sang Remembrance, while the wolf howled softly. The brothers had been dead before they came to this hunt, but they should still be remembered.

* * *

Staying in wolf form was advantageous in other ways, as it allowed him to inhale the right scent coming off the non-changing brother they had found on this new world. This one wasn't dead inside already. The cub was waiting, crouched with both weapons lit, ready to fight, but breathing heavily and… oh. She wanted this brother for a mate.

//Safe.// 

On hearing that, the cub put her weapons away and came over, picking the brother up off the ground once the wolf had moved.

"What…" he began, but she covered his lips with her fingers.

"Danger, near."

"Then I fight for you, Commander."

"No, you fight with us, Captain."

* * *

They found his brothers' bodies torn and rent on an outpost world, but the dead-inside-brothers had paid heavily for killing the pack. None had remained to bury or burn any of them… so the cub and her chosen mate (not that he seemed to know that) donned masks and gloves to tend to the task.

They howled and sang that night, and the wolf let his non-changing brother sleep close, after the cub said the words that explained. The non-changing brother had smelled overjoyed to know the two-leg name the wolf had once used.

His own eyes closed once the cub and the non-changing brother were sleeping. He was thinking of the Father as he did, and began dreaming that the Father held his true brothers' spirits close, running in the afterlife freely now. It let him sleep deeply, even as he realized he was losing the piece of himself that had ever been man-shaped.

* * *

Legend spoke of the demons that plagued the Empire in its infancy. A giant wolf that seemed to know the speech of man and could move swifter than any creature living was accompanied by the orange demoness with horns and tentacles, her very arms beams of light that cut and killed in one touch. They had a man with them, one that might have been just a human, except he could not be caught, could not be held, for the demoness always lifted him from danger.

Legends apparently never died, either, as time went by and more of the giant wolves were found, with demons that had skin closer to brown, not orange, and smaller horns, their tentacles thinner. The Empire's crack troops feared the wolves, but some, the old ones from before the Empire, would only smile and tell the younger ones the truth.

The wolves and the demons, they were Vengeance, Retribution, and Justice. When they came, the old troopers would fight, but only with half a heart, eager to be set free from their sins, and know peace at last.

The legends spoke of haunting songs after such battles, in human words and wolf howls. To hear such was the only warning for the Empire. Either they would need to run, or they would die, and the songs would be repeated.

All of this because the Father sent his wolf-son to guard a cub, these legends existed.

Within the heart of the wolf, he remembered the Father always, and taught those cubs of his own that he made. They would sing of the one whose eyes and mouth could not be seen, the one that had accepted those who changed as his own. They would sing, and they would hunt those that had destroyed the Father's and the cub's people.

This was their Legend to make.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the art of Ahsoka with the huge wolf... and a play on a previous drabble by me that had Wolffe and his brothers as shifters.


End file.
